More Season Six Shorts
by Slaymesoftly
Summary: A few more too-short-for-their-own-pages season six ficlets. These are all pretty old, but I think (unlike some of my other season 6) they hold up pretty well. In more or less chronological order from Buffy's return to her convo with Spike at the wedding. Sort of FitB, but ultimately non-canon.


Title: One Hundred, Forty-seven Days (6/15/06)

Word count: 1900

Summary: Ficlet set just after Spike finds a newly resurrected Buffy walking down the stairs behind Dawn.

**One Hundred, Forty-Seven Days**

"How…how long was I gone?"

"One hundred and forty-eight days, counting today. But today doesn't count, does it?" Spike's voice was soft and gentle, his disbelief and joy more evident on his expressive face than in his words. "We need to fix these hands, luv. Need to clean them up and get the dirt out."

"Okay." Buffy's uncharacteristic compliance and the way her hands remained listlessly atop his own palms told him all he needed to know about her state of mind.

"It'll be alright, pet," he soothed as he watched her brow wrinkle in confusion. "We're going to make it alright." He nodded at Dawn who had just arrived with the first aid kit, reluctantly releasing Buffy's hands to take the kit and open it. When her hands dropped listlessly onto his denim-covered thighs, his hand shook so hard he almost dropped the bottle he'd removed.

Recovering quickly, he poured antiseptic onto a piece of gauze, then paused, thinking about how much the abraded skin was going to hurt. Setting it down carefully, he once again took her hands in his and stood up.

"Come on, pet. Let's get these washed out real good and then we'll worry about the ointments, yeah?"

He led the silent girl to the closest bathroom and gently put her hands under the warm water. The way she allowed him to move her around and manipulate her – so uncharacteristic of the independent slayer he remembered – worried him more than he was willing to let on in front of a hovering Dawn.

"She's going to be all right, isn't she, Spike?" Dawn's anxious voice showed that she had also noticed Buffy's unusual behavior.

"She'll be just fine, Niblet. Jus' a bit of a shock, innit? Being all dead and in the grave and then back to life an' all. She's going to be just fine." He put as much assurance into his voice as he could when his own stomach was clenching with fear.

"Bright," Buffy said suddenly, squeezing her eyes shut. "Too bright."

"Too much light, luv? We'll fix that, won't we, Bit?"

He jerked his head at the light switch, nodding when Dawn turned it off. The light coming in from the hallway was more than enough for him to see what he was doing as he gently washed the dirt off her fingers and from under what was left of her fingernails. When her hands were clean enough to suit him, and the soap had been rinsed down the drain with the mud, he gently patted them dry before holding out his hand for the antibacterial ointment Dawn was clutching. He quickly spread the soothing ointment over the cuts and ruined nails.

"There you go, pet," he continued in the same calm tone he'd been using since she came down the stairs. "All fixed up."

The grateful look Buffy cast his way went straight to his unbeating heart and he risked using one hand to gently push her hair out of her face as he repeated softly, "We're going to make it alright, Buffy. I promise you."

"Don't promise something you can't deliver, Spike," she answered quietly, sounding more like herself. "You can't make this right."

Dawn and Spike exchanged stricken looks at Buffy's calm statement, delivered as she turned to leave the bathroom. Before they could ask for an explanation, she had put a hand over her face, flinching from the bright light in the hallway and Dawn hastily ran ahead of her, turning lamps off as they made their way back to a now-darkened living room.

Buffy's brief moment of lucidity seemed to have passed as she sat on the couch, her knees pressed together, ointment covered hands folded primly in her lap. She seemed to be waiting to be told what to do next and without thinking, Spike sat beside her and began gently rubbing her back. Dawn sat on the other side, her leg pressed against Buffy's as though the physical contact could prove that she was really there.

As the trio sat in the dim room, two of them basking in their joy at having Buffy back in their lives in some fashion, the Slayer began to relax slightly. With a small sigh, she leaned back against the cushions, patting Dawn's hand with one of hers and squeezing it gently when her sister gave in to the tears she'd been holding back since finding a confused Buffy near Glory's tower.

On the other side, Spike slipped his arm out from behind her as she sank back into the couch, clasping his hands awkwardly in his lap to keep them from the constant, reassuring touches they craved. He almost wept along with Dawn when Buffy put her other hand on top of his and whispered a quiet, "Thank you."

"Anything you need, love," he whispered back. "You know that. Just ask."

Her sad smile did nothing to alleviate his concerns about her mental health, but he raised her hand to his lips and repeated, "Anything."

There was no response, although she didn't pull her hand away as he would have expected, leaving it resting in his as though holding hands with Spike was an everyday occurrence.

The quiet tableau was loudly interrupted as the door burst open and the Scoobies poured into the room, all talking at once.

"Dawnie! You're all right! We were so worried…" Voices trailed off as Anya threw on a light switch and they saw who was sitting between Dawn and the vampire.

"Bright," Buffy whispered so softly that only Spike heard her. "Loud. Too loud." Her face scrunched up as her hyper sensitive senses were assaulted by the multiple voices screaming her name and the lights that were immediately turned on so that they could see her more easily.

When she began to whimper in pain, curling into Spike in an unspoken plea, Dawn rose to her feet to glare at the excited Scoobies.

"Be quiet, you idiots!" she hissed. "And turn those lights off. She doesn't like noise or bright lights."

"Well, that's just ridiculous," Xander huffed. "This is Buffy! She loves bright lights."

"Not right now she doesn't," Spike growled, not moving from his place beside the Slayer who was still trying to hide her eyes against his shoulder and whimpering about the noise.

"Well, why wouldn't she? She's back from the dead! Unlike you, Spike." Venom dripped from the boy's tongue as he finally realized why Spike was still sitting. "What are you doing touching her, anyway? Get away from her, now!"

Xander reached for the vampire's arm, yanking the smaller man to his feet and evoking a bloodcurdling snarl that temporarily shook him until he remembered that Spike could not follow through on his threat. Spike allowed himself to be pulled away from Buffy, not wanting her to get caught in the middle of a physical confrontation so soon after being resurrected.

As Spike was shoved towards the door by the eager humans - each hoping to be the first to hug Buffy and receive her thanks - he could see her shrinking back into the barely conscious state she'd been in when he first saw her. His chip began firing as he prepared to wade back through the Scoobies and rescue her from their well-intended but overwhelming attentions; however, before he could cause himself a full-blown headache, Dawn was standing protectively in front of her sister.

"What the hell is wrong with you guys?" she yelled, cringing apologetically when she felt Buffy wince behind her. Lowering her voice she continued, "She doesn't like loud noises or bright lights. Leave her alone!"

"But…but…_we_ brought her back," Xander blustered. "We have a right to—" He was cut off as Spike, ignoring the pain lancing through his head, grabbed his arm and squeezed it painfully. "You stupid gits are responsible for this?"

Shaking off Spike's already weakening grip, the boy snarled, "Yes! _we_ brought her back. And don't try to tell me this isn't the happiest day of your life, too, fangless, so just back off! The Slayer's back; we don't need you anymore."

"She does," Spike answered quietly, pointing to the girl on the couch who was staring back and forth between them fearfully.

"She doesn't need you. She needs us. Her friends. We're the ones who brought her back."

"And left her to dig her way out of her own grave." His voice was as cold and menacing as anyone had ever heard it, and they all shrank away from him in spite of their faith in the chip.

"No… we… I mean, we did… but we didn't know… and there were motorcycles… and…" Willow turned desperate eyes on her best friend. "You didn't have to do that, did you, Buffy?"

Buffy silently held out the hands she'd been hiding in her lap and allowed everyone to see the missing fingernails, swollen knuckles and torn skin.

There was a collective gasp, followed by the first real silence since the group had entered the house. Without otherwise responding to them, Buffy's eyes went to the vampire, now standing by the open door.

"Tired?" she said softly.

He was by her side again too fast for the humans to see or prevent. "Sure you are, pet. You want to go to your room? Where it's dark and quiet."

He glared at the still-reeling Scoobies, Dawn backing him up fiercely as he took Buffy's hands and pulled her gently to her feet. He gave her a little shove towards her sister who put an arm around Buffy's shoulders and began to lead her to the stairs. As Dawn escorted her up the stairs to the relative quiet and safety of her room, Buffy sent one last grateful glance towards Spike before she disappeared from his sight.

Knowing without asking who had worked the spell that pulled the Slayer from her grave, Spike focused on the red headed witch and growled softly, "Magic has consequences, Red; it always has consequences. And dark magic has dark consequences. You should have known that."

"There's nothing wrong with her," Willow insisted stubbornly. "By tomorrow she'll be all with the happy and the gratitude. After all, I _did_ rescue her from hell, didn't I?" She glared at the vampire triumphantly.

"I guess we'll find out, won't we?" was his only response as he slipped out the door, leaving a silent group of humans behind to contemplate his words. Only Tara murmured, "Oh Goddess," as she realized what the other possibility could be; the others stubbornly refused to entertain any other thought than that they had pulled Buffy from a hell dimension and would be basking in her happiness and gratitude as soon as she felt better.

Epilogue

Smoke drifted slowly away from the roof as Spike settled himself in for a long night. He watched impassively as Buffy's friends left the house, arguing among themselves about how much time they should give her before they asked her to take up slaying again. Resting against the still-warm boards outside Buffy's room, he noted idly that they could use a new coat of paint. He heard Dawn tiptoe around her sister's room, double-checking that she had not imagined the entire evening and reassuring herself that Buffy was really back. The former Key smiled to herself when she smelled the familiar aroma of cigarettes from outside the open window, whispering, "Good night, Spike," as she walked to her own room, confident that her newly returned sister would be protected for the night.

The vampire grinned at how well the girl he'd cared for all summer knew him; then leaned his head against the house to await the inevitable nightmares.

**The End**

**YOU CAN'T GO HOME AGAIN/CONVERSATIONS ABOUT DEAD PEOPLE**

Summary: A season 6 fill in the blanks ficlet about Buffy's meeting with Angel. No idea why this has two titles; I probably used one of them before on another fic. I tend to do that, absent-minded fool that I am...

**You Can't Go Home Again/Conversations About Dead People **

She approached the diner hesitantly, not sure how she felt about seeing Angel again, but knowing he wouldn't believe she was alive unless he saw it for himself. She flinched as she entered the building and saw him quickly shove a stake up his sleeve.

"Nice to know you trust us so much," she said, rolling her eyes and sitting down to wait for him to notice her heartbeat. He shook his head, still frowning, but relaxing back into his seat. She couldn't help comparing the wary look on his face to the sheer awe on Spike's when he'd realized that it wasn't the bot walking down the stairs toward him.

"I'm sorry, Buffy," he said finally, reaching to cover her hand with his. "I just… it's hard to believe, you know? I mean... I was there for the funeral. I saw you in that coffin." He shook his head again. "How did this happen?"

She gave a shrug, twisting her mouth into a sardonic smile. "I think you can thank Willow for it. Seems she's got depths none of us knew about."

"I can't believe Giles was stupid enough to let her go there. What made him think she could control those forces?" He glared at her as if it was her fault Willow had delved into black magic.

"What makes _you _ think Willow was stupid enough to do it while Giles was around?" she shot back. "He went back to England. No slayer means nothing left to watch, right?" Buffy tried to keep the bitterness from her voice, that Giles had gone off and left Dawn... "He wasn't there. And nobody asked Spi—"

"Spike! He came back? I told him to stay away from Sunnydale or I'd…" His eyes flickered yellow for just a second, long enough for Buffy to stiffen in her seat. When he did nothing but continue to growl and mutter, she relaxed again as he went on. "Oh, that idiot. It was his idea, wasn't it? It's just like him, never thinking about anybody but himself, using magic when he shouldn't, running back to Sunnydale when he couldn't cope with being by himself in the real world. Typical. What did he think? That you'd fall in his lap with gratitude? Using Willow like that… I'll kill—" He paused to look at her hopefully. "Unless you already did? Did you dust him?"

Buffy flashed back to Dawn's description of the one-sided fight between a furious Angel and a still-injured Spike over which one of them had a right to be at her burial. Apparently it had taken a combination of magic, Dawn's tearful pleading, and Xander's obvious willingness to stake him to pull Angel off the younger vampire. He'd never waited to hear any reasons for why Spike was present and so clearly a part of the small group of mourners, only listened to the explanation of why he wasn't a danger to anyone before backing off and agreeing to leave. As he prepared to go back to LA, his snarled threats to his crippled grandchilde had Dawn putting her own body between Spike and Angel, clutching a stake in one hand and a cross in the other. The muttered "stupid child" that Dawn heard as he turned away had done nothing to endear him to the younger Summers, and Buffy had wondered how much of Dawn's story about the drama at her burial was biased by her strong dislike of Angel. Now she was less sure that Dawn had exaggerated Angel's behavior.

"Why would I do that?" she asked in reply to his question about dusting Spike. "Spike had nothing to do with bringing me back. Willow didn't even tell him she was thinking about it. Probably because she knew he would try to stop her. Spike knows a lot about magic. I don't think he would have let her try it. He would have known it was a bad idea…"

"Well," Angel looked ashamed briefly. "I'm not saying it was a bad idea. I mean, you're here, and that's… that's great. It's just that a novice witch had no business trying something like that without supervision. Even Spike's supervision would have been better than nothing."

"It's no big," she said. "It worked. I'm here. There was some kind of magical hitchhiker that came with me, but I slayed it, so it's all good. _We're_ all good." She wondered why he smiled and nodded. Surely the man she'd thought was the love of her life – her soulmate – could see that she was lying?

"So, you're all okay then? No aftereffects?"

"Not so you'd notice." She waited quietly for him to notice that there was something to notice, but when he just continued to smile, she sighed. "Yes, Angel. I'm fine. A little stiff sometimes from the lack of activity for so long, but Spike and I—"

"Wait – he's still there? He didn't take off again when you told him to get lost?"

"He never left, Angel. He stayed. And no, I didn't tell him to get lost. He's the only one I— He kept his promise."

"What promise?" Angel's brows drew together. "What did he promise?"

"To take care of Dawn. I asked him to help me protect Dawn and he did. Even when I was gone – dead and buried – he never left. He kept her safe, he patrolled with my friends and backed them up; he did everything he could do to protect my sister and my friends. And he did it without having any idea that I would ever be back to thank him."

Angel managed to look furious and ashamed at the same time. "I would have—Dawn could have come to me. I would have taken care of her. I just…"

"You've got a life in LA. I understand that. A business to run, all that stuff. It's okay." Buffy found that, to her surprise, it _was_ okay. She had no expectations about Angel or his willingness to worry about anyone in Sunnydale.

He sighed and leaned forward. "Buffy… I just…" He shook his head. "We've grown apart, haven't we? I know so little about your life for the past couple of years…"

She smiled sadly as she nodded. "That's what you wanted, wasn't it? For me to live my life without you? And I did okay. I mean, yeah, I died – but it was to save the world. It's not like some grubby vamp had his one good day, or like that skanky hellgod actually won our last fight. I saved my sister, saved the world, and got to take a nice long rest." She paused and waited for him to notice and think about her last remark, but he just smiled.

"And now you're back."

"And now I'm back. And I need to get home. I should try to get some patrolling in tonight before I go to bed." She stood up and waited for him to join her. Angel threw some bills on the table, and they walked to the door. Buffy stopped him with a hand on his chest. "Let's say good-bye here."

He looked puzzled, but nodded and hugged her awkwardly. "I really am glad to have you back, Buffy. You'll let me know if you need anything, won't you?"

"Of course," she said, giving him a brief hug back. "We'll be fine, though. Don't worry."

"Oh I'm not," he said quickly. "I'm sure you'll be fine. I mean, at least you're not dead anymore. Anything's got to be better than that, right?" He grinned.

"Right. Bye, Angel." She walked out the door and around the corner where the long black car was waiting for her. Sliding into the passenger seat, she put her head against the back of the seat, closed her eyes and said, "Let's go home."

**The End**

Title: You Need What You Need

Prompt: A friend in need

Rating: PG

Summary: Spike and Dawn with just a hint of Spuffy. He's always there for his girls when they need him.

**You Need What You Need**

"Spike! Spike, where are you? This is important!" Dawn's voice was somewhere between a whine and a command. Her foot tapped impatiently as she waited for him to answer her. A mutually embarrassing encounter the previous week had taught her not to climb down into his bedroom without an invitation; even though the glimpse she'd had of his naked body sprawled on the bed had her thinking her sister was seriously crazy not to want what they all knew Spike wanted to give her.

"What's the big emergency, Nibblet?" came a grumpy voice from downstairs. "And don't come down here!"

Dawn frowned, not sure she wasn't hearing a whispered conversation from the lower level, but she responded sharply. "Wasn't planning to! I'm scarred enough as it is."

"'s what you get for peeping into a man's bedroom uninvited," he said, his tousled hair appearing at the top of the ladder. He was just tugging his tee-shirt into place as he climbed into the room, making Dawn very grateful she hadn't looked downstairs.

"You're not a man," she huffed, turning away so he wouldn't see her flaming face.

"Is that so? Could've fooled me. I was sure it was my manly bits that had you screaming and coverin' your eyes last week," he said, wincing when he heard something crash downstairs.

"What's that? Is there somebody here? Were you... Ewwww, Spike!"

"Keep your 'ewws' to yourself, pet." Spike's face was suddenly serious. "I'm a grown man and I'm entitled to have a life. One that doesn't include checking with little girls to see if my activities are acceptable. You got that, Bit?"

Dawn's eyes filled with tears she tried to blink back. Since Buffy's death the previous spring, Spike had never spoken to her in anything but soft tones and with affection. Granted, she wasn't seeing him as much now that Buffy was back, but he was always glad to see her when he did. This unwelcoming, and apparently busy Spike wasn't what she'd come to his crypt for.

"I... I'm... sorry. I'll just... Never mind." She whirled and sped toward the door, choking back a sob. A firm hand on her backpack halted her forward progress; she stopped, but refused to turn around.

"I'm sorry, Dawn." Spike sighed, his voice once again the patient, loving one she was used to. "Had no right to growl at you like that. It's just... you're my Nibblet, and I'd like to keep you sweet and innocent as long as possible. Gonna be hard to do that if you keep popping into my home when I'm not expecting you."

"I'm not all that innocent," she grumbled, relaxing her shoulders but still not turning around to face him.

"You bloody well better be! Or I'll be testing out the limits of this chip on the wanker responsible."

"Oh, so you can have a sex life, but I can't. Is that what you're saying?" She gave a haughty sniff and tried to look mature and worldly as she turned around to glare at him.

"Got it in one, pet. That's exactly what I'm saying. There's no reason for you to even think about copying my lifestyle – any of it – any more than you might want to take up drinking blood just 'cause I do it."

"It doesn't seem very fair. Why not?"

He stared at her, his eyes bulging comically. "Why not?" he roared, forgetting about being gentle with her. "Why not?"

"Yeah." Dawn raised her chin and gave him a stubborn stare. "Why not? I've got Buffy to treat me like a ten-year-old. You're supposed to be my friend, and friends help their friends... do stuff."

He gave a bloodcurdling snarl, clenched his fists, and visibly seized hold of his temper. Taking a deep breath, he led her to the chair and gestured for her to sit. He began pacing in front of her.

"Let's go back to why you should be doing as I say and not as I do. You are fifteen, human, vulnerable, and all the woman I love has left in the way of a family. I'm 150 years old and a vampire – an evil soulless creature who has been cultivating his bad habits for over a century. Stop me when I get to something we have even remotely in common."

"We both love Buffy," she said, so quietly only his vampire hearing allowed him to catch it. She repeated it more loudly when he didn't respond. "We both love Buffy."

"We do," he admitted. "And that's why it's so important to me that you stay safe. Your sis has enough to worry about right now without you doing anything more dangerous than living in this hell-hole of a town. There isn't a one of my bad habits wouldn't put you in some kind of danger. Not a one."

He dropped to his knees in front of her and took her hands in his, "Do you understand what I'm sayin' here, Nibblet? We love you, your sis and I. We're not trying to keep you from having fun or growing up, we're jus' trying to keep you safe while you do it."

"You can't speak for Buffy. You don't know what she's been like since she came... back. I don't think she loves anybody."

He flinched and glanced toward the ladder. "She does, Bit. She loves just as much as she ever did. She's jus' having a hard time showing it right now. Give her some time. Think about where she was and what it must feel like to have lost that." He cupped her cheek with one hand. "You can show me how much you're growing up by having some compassion for your sister. I know being a teenager is all about being the one the world revolves around. And I know that last year, with the whole Glory thing going on, it pretty much did revolve around you. But now? Now it's got to be about Buffy."

"Buffy wasn't much older than me when she boinked Angel." Dawn's lip came out in stubborn pout.

"An' we all know how well that turned out..."

"Okay, bad example, but—"

"There are no 'but's here, Bit. There's just doing what we can to ease her burden and help her learn to live in the world again. An' if that means passing up some good times.,.."

"You were more fun before you fell in love with Buffy," she grumbled, hiding a smile.

"Don't doubt that for a minute, Bit," he said, grinning and rising to his feet. "But it is what it is. You'll just have to deal with it."

"Hmmmph!" Dawn stood up too and moved toward the door.

"What did you want?" he said. "When you came bustin' in here all annoyed that I wasn't right here at your service?"

"Oh. I wanted you to help me with my French homework. But it's okay, I can—"

"I'll come by this evening," he interrupted. "We'll work on it while the Slayer's busy slinging hamburgers."

"You will? Really?" She broke into a smile. "You'll help me?"

" 's what friends are for, innit?"

Dawn waved and walked out into the sunlight, remembering at the last second to grab the door and pull it shut behind her. Spike watched the room darken before he spoke.

"You heard?"

"I heard... Thank you. You didn't need to do that."

He stiffened in surprise when she rested her cheek against his back and put her arms around him.

"It's what friends are for, love." He turned around slowly and put his arms around her, resting his chin on her head. "It's what friends are for."

_**The End**_

Title: As They Lie Sleeping (3/19/04)

Rating: PG

Word count - 527

Summary: A very, very short peek at a private moment for each of them. (Don't we wish?)

**AS THEY LIE SLEEPING**

He gazes at the sleeping girl, an expression of satisfaction on his face as his eyes travel from her kiss-swollen lips, down her sweat-slicked body to her sprawled legs. _I did that to her_, he thinks proudly. _I shagged her into exhaustion._ He waits a few minutes to be sure she is deeply asleep, then indulges himself in a few stolen moments of the kind of attention she won't permit when she's awake.

He gently runs a finger down her cheek, marveling at the softness of her skin; he runs his fingers through her silky hair, nuzzles her neck inhaling her unique scent. Planting light, butterfly kisses all over her face, neck and shoulders, he murmurs, "I love you, Buffy Summers. My golden girl, my Slayer, my love. I'll never leave you. I will love you forever."

He freezes for a second as the sleeping girl stirs, but she just turns toward his body and snuggles into his side with a contented sound. The sight and feel of her cuddling up to him makes his eyes prickle with unshed tears as he carefully wraps his arms around her, pulling the blanket over them so she won't be chilled by his cool body while he basks in her warmth.

"Love you, Slayer," he murmurs again as he succumbs to the heavy dawn-induced sleep that has crept up on him. He fights the sensation for a time - wanting to stay awake and enjoy the sensation of Buffy sleeping in his arms, but eventually his eyelids fall shut and he sleeps, his head resting on the Slayer's golden hair.

Cautiously, she opens her eyes and waits to see if Spike is really sleeping or just lying still as only a vampire can. As soon as she is sure he is in the daylight-induced deep sleep that will keep him almost unconscious for several hours, she indulges herself in the things she would never do if he were awake. She runs her fingers down his chiseled cheekbones, gently touches his soft lips, traces the scar on his eyebrow. Running her hands over his face and body, she is committing to tactile memory everything she can about him.

She somehow has convinced herself that as long as he doesn't know that she wants this gentle contact, that she craves his nearness, it is somehow not real and she doesn't have to admit to him or to herself that he has become so important in her life. She plants light kisses on his chest and shoulders, buries her face in his neck and inhales his scent. She idly notes that he has covered them up with the blanket he doesn't need and smiles at his thoughtfulness. As she snuggles closer and curls her body around his, she murmurs, almost to herself, "I love you, Spike."

**the end**

Title: Thoughts on a wedding (5/28/04)

Word Count - 907Beta:

Summary: What Spike might have been thinking while at the non-wedding

**THOUGHTS ON A WEDDING**

She looks so happy as I watch her from the side of the room – greetin' people, huggin' her friends, beamin' at the whelp with tears in her eyes. Happy tears, not the ones she sheds with me when she thinks I'm asleep. Used to shed with me – used to. Never wants to sleep with me again - sleep _with_ me -was she ever really with me? That's what she said, isn't it?

Back to the subject. She seems happy. Shouldn't breakin' my heart have hurt her a little bit? Shouldn't she be just a little bit sad that she crushed the man who loves her? Oh, wait, that's right. Not a man. A "thing", an "evil, disgusting thing". No reason to worry about his feelings. Got no soul. Can't have feelings.

I wonder if she knows I'm here yet? Would she come and talk to me if she did? What can we say to each other? Me? All I can think of is "I love you." Been there – tried that. She doesn't want to hear it. Doesn't want to believe it. Soddin' Angelus! Got her convinced you have to have a soul to love her. Got her so sure, she won't see what's right in front of her. Then she'd have to admit what a bastard he is – worry that there's something wrong with her that he couldn't love her without his soul. Tried to tell her the miserable pillock was a dickhead with or without it, but she doesn't want to hear it.

Off subject again. What could she say to me? I know what I want her to say. Tell me she's sorry. Tell me she didn't mean it – breaking up with me, I mean. I want her to tell me she wants me. Don't care if she loves me – OK, I do care, just don't need to hear it if she'll just come back to my bed. Let me love her. That'd be enough for me. Has to be.

I wonder if she's seen my "date"? Not much for her to look at, I guess. She's certainly no competition for my golden girl. Just couldn't bear to show up alone. Don't want to seem pathetic. Anyway, maybe she'll be jealous. Just a little. Maybe.

Or, maybe not. She'd have to care to be jealous. Know she doesn't. She's made that clear often enough. It was never about caring for her. It was just about getting an itch scratched. Hard to believe the wonderful girl I fell in love with would treat someone like that. Even someone she thought was beneath her.

Guess the fact that she doesn't want to do it any more shows that she's gettin' better. Starting to feel bad about using me. I should be glad for her. That she's startin' to feel like herself again.

Oh shit. Here she comes. She's so beautiful. Got to be cool. Don't let her see what a pathetic git I am. Don't beg. Act like I'm dealin' with it. Be sure she knows I brought a date…

Guess I didn't fool her – she knows the date was just to make her jealous. Think I'll ask if it did – not that I expect her to admit… Ok, now she's just fuckin' with my mind. Telling me it hurts – seeing me with someone else. How can it hurt if she doesn't care? Didn't want to hurt her! Oh, love, I'm sorry—wait a minute! The whole point of bringing the silly bint was to make Buffy realize she wants me. Not gonna apologize for it!

I'm such a wanker. Of course I'm sorry. Never want to cause her more pain. Was a bad idea. What was I thinkin'? I tell her I love her and then I do somethin' I'm hopin' will hurt her. She's right. I am evil. Don't deserve her. Know that. Doesn't matter. Want her anyway.

Sod it all. She was so happy. I don't want to spoil the party for her. I'll just take the bird home and go get drunk somewhere. Don't think I'da enjoyed it anyway. Watching her from a distance, wishing she was dancing with me. God, I'm a pathetic git! What a poofter! As bad as William, I am sometimes. Gonna leave. Let her enjoy the fun with her Scoobie friends.

Should have taken the time to wish the demon girl well. I suspect she's going to need some good wishes – marrying that wanker. Hope he's good to her.

Ok, we're leavin'. I've made enough of a fool of myself. And made her unhappy besides. I wonder if it really did hurt? Or if she's just saying that to make me feel better?

Why would she care how I feel? Said it again, though, when I asked if it really did. Looked like she meant it. I thought I saw something there. Damn her! We're not together and she's still blowin' hot and cold.

She says it doesn't change anything. That it hurts her. How can she say that? It changes everything! If she didn't care, it wouldn't hurt her. If she cares, why is she doing this to me? To herself? To us.

I need a drink.

**The End**


End file.
